Aristocratic elegance emanated from the opulent grandeur of the 19th-century, gaslit restaurant. Gilded walls adorned with intricate tapestries shimmered in the warm glow of crystal chandeliers, which cascaded from the ceiling like waterfalls of light. Silverware clinking against fine china and gentle sounds of laughter created an ambiance that could only be enjoyed by the wealthiest patrons.

At a luxuriously decorated table draped in silk, your father and you sat side by side. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, and as he surveyed the room, his eyes glinted with pride. He was a towering figure of influence and power.

An invisible thread of tension was pulled taut in the room, bringing a sudden hush to the room. Eyes converged on the entrance as if drawn by an unseen force. From the shadows emerged a figure, gripping attention with every step. Dracula made his grand entrance wearing a sweeping, black velvet cloak that contrasted sharply against the sea of vivid colors.

A captivating and enigmatic aura permeated his movements among the patrons, as Vladislaus Dracula effortlessly moved between them. It was impossible to resist his charm, which captivated anyone he came in contact with in a powerful web of mesmerizing conversation.

Over the course of the evening, the energy in the room shifted yet again. From across the room, your eyes locked with his, forming a connection that transcended the bustle of the restaurant.